Childhood Bliss
by BlazingLegend
Summary: Idyllic and not-so-idyllic chapters in the gang's childhood lives.
1. Story One

_First of all, yeah, I know, I've broken my hiatus about twice. But this came to mind and it was just so gosh darn cute I couldn't resist. I'm not sure if it'll be just a string of oneshots, or an actual story with an actual plot. Regardless, it's a very casual story, and I'll try, but don't be expecting very regular updates._

* * *

_Seven years old._

Emma Gilbert leant out of the old oak tree, her braids unravelling around her face and her small white teeth painted in a grin.

Cleo Sertori giggled by her side, wiping her damp face and peering out from behind the leaves. "That was mean,"

"But funny." Emma waggled her fingers in the air, waving down at the wounded and howling Zane Bennett on the ground below.

"But mean."

"But _funny!_"

Cleo looked out again, tugging on her matching braids. "It is pretty funny..."

Emma hopped out of the tree, swinging with prowess from the branches and sliding down the bark effortlessly. She brushed off her dress, leaning over the groaning Zane. "You don't mess with my best friend, alright?"

With a moan he rolled over onto his stomach, shaking his head against the dirt. "No," he choked out.

She nudged him with the toe of her sandal. "No, _what?_"

"No ma'am!"

She threw back her small blonde head, her melodious laughs echoing around the foliage.

Cleo blinked from her spot atop the tree. "Em?"

Emma swirled around, eyebrows raised. "Cleo?"

"I can't get down!"

Emma stalked up to the tree, extending her arms and waving them around. "I'll catch you."

Trickles of bark plopped to the ground as her feet shifted. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a small shriek and clutching at a tree branch. "I can't move,"

Emma frowned. "Well, we have a pre-dic-a-ment," she said, sounding out the word.

Lewis trotted past, spotting Cleo hanging petrified in the tree and skidding to a stop. "What's going on?"

"Cleo can't get down."

"Hmm," he said. He spied Zane crawling away from the group and shook his head. "Let me guess—Zane just _happened _to fall out of the tree?"

Emma turned to him, a smile crisscrossing her face. "Yup. It was pretty funny, actually."

He shook his head again, but his lips were creeping upward. "Okay," he looked up at Cleo, who blinked at him. "So, Cleo, how do we get you down?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know. I don't like it up here."

"How about you just try," he said. "Try, and if you fall, I'll catch you?"

Her eyes squeezed shut and she shook her head, her dark plaits whipping back and forth. "No! I'll hurt myself!"

"I'll catch you, okay? Promise." He watched as she opened her eyes and stared down at him. He raised his pinky finger to the air, a smile carving tracks in his face. "_Promise._"

Her nose scrunched.

"C'mon, Cleo," Emma called to her, "Lewis doesn't break promises. Let alone pinky promises!"

One side of her face pulled tight, but she eventually nodded. "Okay. Alright. But you have to catch me!"

"I will."

She wriggled out from her spot, letting out a small squeal when her dress snagged on a branch. She waved one leg in the air, still clutching at the tree.

"I'm going to catch you, Cleo," he had his arms outstretched, and he was nodding to her.

She shrieked as she let go, waiting to be swallowed up by the earth and keep going, down, down, forever.

_I'll catch you. _

And you know what? He did.

They toppled over and rolled for a few seconds, but he shielded her head and the rest of her body from any bumps or bruises she may have sustained.

When they came to a stop, Emma was leaning over them, her face kneaded into a frown. "Hey. Why did you trust him and not me?"


	2. Story Two

_Fourteen years old._

Emma's head split the surface of the water, and Cleo pushed down the button on the timer.

She helped her friend out of the pool, squeezing her eyes shut against the glare of the water and ignoring her somersaulting stomach. "Em, that was great!"

Emma pulled off her cap, revealing dry blonde locks. "I could have done better," she said as she reached for a bottle of water.

Cleo frowned, crossing her arms. "You have to stop doing that, alright? Putting yourself down. You were amazing."

Emma waved her fingers in the air, pulling a face. "Fine. Let's go back to my house and get something to eat, okay?"

She smiled. "Good!"

They met up with Lewis on their way to Emma's place, who had been on the beach collecting sand samples or something else incredibly boring.

"Emma, Cleo, what have you been doing today?" he asked, peering at some bits of paper he held in his hands.

"I've been helping Em with her training," she looked at Emma, who shrugged. "She was really good. Not that she believes a word I say."

He laughed. "Of course she doesn't. Emma, listen to me when I say _you _are, like, the prodigy of athletics. And I'm pretty brainy, so I do not use the word prodigy lightly."

Emma laughed, running a hand through her loose hair. "Well, thanks. That means a lot, coming from Mr. Voted-Most-Likely-To-Be-A-Ciborg."

"Hey!" he ducked behind Cleo and gave Emma a soft whack with his textbook. "That isn't funny."

"I think it is. Cleo?"

Cleo raised her hands, shrugging. "I'm not taking sides."

Suddenly Emma twirled—and that may have been to avoid another assault from Lewis, or it may have been because her eyes had achieved an abrupt twinkle. "_Oh! _Cleo, its Valentines tomorrow! Lewis, did you know that? Aren't you guys _excited?_"

Cleo glanced at Lewis, whose nose had crinkled as if Valentines was something foul and to be avoided. "I'm not that excited," she said with a shrug. Emma skidded to a stop and stared at her, slack-jawed.

"Why not? I swear, you guys are so weird."

"Because last year I didn't get any cards—except that mean one from Miriam Kent. And that joke one from Zane..." she paused, frowning. "Why do people like playing tricks on me?"

"It's not that, Cleo," Emma went over and wrapped an arm around her. "It's just that Zane and Miriam are absolute dunderheads and they deserve each other."

She shook her head. "But I still don't think I'll get any this year."

"Come on," she said. "Don't worry about it. For anyone who doesn't send you a card—well, then it's their fault because they're missing something amazing. Now hurry up! I'm starving!"

She raced forward, hopping over all the cracks in the pavement and twirling around every street light.

Lewis stood at her side, watching Emma shriek and teeter on her feet but then yell in the face of the vanquished crack.

"She's a weird one," he said, shaking his head.

"But we love her anyway, right?"

"Yes," he said, laughing. "Right."

XXX

Cleo opened her locker, ignoring the red tinted paper pinned to it.

"Why don't you open them?" Emma was at her side, nudging her. "If Miriam and Zane have the guts to send you phony letters again, I'll go over there and personally punch their lights out."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Alright, fine. But no punching. No putting out of lights."

She sagged for a split second before bouncing back up again. "Come on then! Open them!"

There were three. She tugged the first one off and opened it.

_Zane_

_Kissy kiss—_

She screwed it up and threw it across the hall.

Emma lightly pressed her elbow into Cleo's stomach. "It's alright. The next one."

_Miriam_

_Next year? Don't get your hopes up._

She trod on it, a sense of satisfaction welling as she felt the paper shred beneath her sneakers.

"There's one more."

With a sigh, she pulled the last one off her locker. She unfolded it, ready to scrunch it up in a second.

_I didn't want them to ruin your Valentine's Day. You are phenomenal, and no amount of stupid comments can change that._

There wasn't a name, but she didn't need to know who it was from. She turned around, and across the hall, she saw Lewis shoving textbooks into his locker.

He waved.


	3. Story Three

_Hey guys! Groan. Don't even _ask _about my hiatus. Is it my fault I feel like spontaneously combusting if I don't write? No! So don't judge me... _

_T__his story features Rikki. I'll bet you thought it would be confined to Cleo, Lewis and Emma, didn't you? No way! That is not thorough storytelling. And if you're gonna do anything, you should do it right, so there'll be some tales of Bella in here too. Have a happy holidays!_

* * *

_Nine years old._

Gravel pooled in her mouth and she coughed, her throat turning from uncomfortable to raw in a second.

"Get up, shrimp! If you can't handle the way we play, then get out!"

Swiping at her face, ignoring the jagged pain spreading through her face and knees, she stood up. She flicked her curls out of her eyes, blue eyes glinting with something undiscovered—defiant. "You _pushed _me, you loser!" she yelled, her fists curling, her rage battling with the tears, a power overwhelming enough to keep them at bay.

The boy towered over her, at least two years her senior. "What did you say? You tripped on your own stupid feet!"

"I'm not stupid," she shouted, "You pushed me."

"No, I didn't," he said, "You're an idiot just like your mother."

Her anger burst the floodgates, and she shoved the boy in the chest. "Don't you talk about my mother like that!"

He sneered, his face warping. "Why not? It's all she deserves," he said, and as she lunged for him again, he caught her wrists and threw her to the ground. "And that's all you deserve." He nudged her with the toe of his boot as she sputtered, swallowing dirt. "Stay there, shrimp. Where you belong."

He'd hurled her so hard her world closed in and black dots danced in front of her eyes, and she had no breath to regain her footing, let alone her dignity. She stayed there, breathing in choking pants, but only a fraction of air getting in every time. The black dots came for her, lunging, hungry for her consciousness.

"Rikki!"

The voice sounded familiar. Rough, warm hands picked her up and cradled her. Warm breath kissed her cheeks, lips pressed against her hair.

"Sweetheart, what happened? You didn't play with those boys, did you?"

She wrapped her arms around him, the reason for the familiarity finally wiggling into her awareness. "I'm—sorry—Daddy—"

A hand petted her curls. "It's okay, honey. Let's go home, alright? Get you cleaned up."

After a few tries, with her father's help, she got onto her feet and walked with him back to their small apartment.

He sat her in a chair and tended to her scraped knees and her stinging face. He stared into her small blue eyes, his lips pulled tight—not quite a frown, but definitely disapproving. "Sweetheart, I think we need to talk about what happened,"

Her lower lip started trembling and she sniffed, blinking rapidly, determined to slap herself if her mouth didn't stop betraying her that second. "I don't think we should."

He squeezed her hands, his big rough ones enveloping her pale slight ones. "I told you those boys were dangerous, didn't I?"

She looked down at her blue strap sandals, her blonde curls swallowing her face. "Yes,"

"And you played with them anyway."

Her head dipped further. "Yes. I thought I was tough enough—I really did!" she said, her voice cracking.

He sighed, placing his fingers beneath her chin and angling her face from side to side. "You're plenty tough, honey. But you're still little. Those were very big boys. They could have seriously hurt you, Rikki," he looked down, taking far too long to apply a bandage to her knee. "And after your mother..."

"I'm sorry, Dad."

He stood up, tugging her off her chair and turning her around, seeing if there was a cut or bruise he'd missed. "I know you are," he said. He gave her one last glance and nodded. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "There. All better."

"Thank you," she said, bouncing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he knelt once more, staring into her with a gaze so powerful that even at her young age, she knew she wouldn't be able to break away. "But you can't do that again. Those boys—they don't care. What they do to you. Your mother..."

He stopped, a choked sound blooming in his throat. She wrapped him in a hug. She knew. She understood.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I won't. Promise."


End file.
